


Dear Whoever

by creekblues



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creekblues/pseuds/creekblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the year 1989, and Dipper Pines has a lot to learn about life and death. After attempting suicide he's sent to a psychiatric hospital in Gravity Falls, Oregon, where he meets a strange young man who makes his heart burst, and he swears he's magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed as if the darkness in his bedroom combined too much with the darkness in his mind. Slowly he raised himself from his bed, and carefully he walked with the grace of an old man, damned with arthritis. There's a mirror across his room, and gazes into it with a sick sense of dread, the sadness sticking to his insides like glue. There's bags under his eyes and he can't remember the last time he's woken up and felt okay. It's been a few years, at least. He was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at age 15. Middle school was already hard enough as it was, and high school broke him.

Music is playing downstairs, and he cringes as his head begins to draw out deep thumps at the sound. He puts on sunglasses as the light hurts his eyes; he's become so used to confining himself to his room. There's nobody home at this time of day anyway, so there's no one here to scold him for being a hermit. Like he could ever break free from that. And anyway, it's half past noon. His sister is probably out with friends doing god knows what, and his parents are at work. It's Saturday, and his shift at the local library doesn't start until 4.

Not that it mattered.

As of now, none of it mattered.

He's thought about this with a clear and rational state of mind. There's just no other way out, no other way to perceive things.

He goes downstairs, to find that he can hardly walk straight. And suddenly his vision is blurred and breaking down and it takes him a minute to realize he was crying, that he was taking hollowed out breaths as a means to control himself.

He sees every fucking moment he's been patronized and beaten at school, he sees his sister crying after she comes home with bruises on her arms after going out to see her boyfriend. He sees the first time Jonas Moschovitz, the only friend he ever had, turns over his wrist to reveal the scars he'd kept as secrets for years. It seemed to be an endless cycle of life, break and beat the weak or unworthy. He wonders what he's done to be deemed so lowly in the shadows of God's graces, and he shudders as an idea crosses his mind, a darker path to forget, and thinks to numb himself in hope to be rid of the pain.

Everything and everyone was broken, nothing was beautiful and there was no stopping the hurt that plagued itself to his heart. Perhaps, if he tried harder, he could have fixed things. He wouldn't be in the his position of total vulnerability, and he wouldn't feel so damned lost.

He finds the key to his parents "medicine" cabinet in a drawer somewhere, and it's so incredibly funny and yet oddly terrifying because he can't seem to remember doping himself up on pain meds before taking several swigs of scotch.

But he must have, he must have because everything fades to black and he wakes up to white walls and somebody sticking a tube down his throat. There's doctors surrounding him and there's so much talking, talking, talking, and everything is spinning and he believes he's in Hell. Suddenly he's throwing up every single pill he took, which was in fact two bottles worth, and he thinks he sees blood and he freaks out a bit before realizing the position he was in. In a way, he was grateful that his life had not been cut so short. Another part of him wishes he hadn't failed.

Just another disappointment, another failure. What will his family think of his most recent escapade? He doesn't want to think about it, wants to forget, but the thought of downing alcohol makes him sick.

He's waiting for the fire and brimstone, and he thinks he sees Satan rising from the ashes because there's a man on the other side of the room who looks like he's in charge, who he's positive he'll see again. He doesn't like it, he wants to run, to rip the IV from his body and tread out of the hospital. But he knows in the back of his mind, and with everything in his heart, that that is not what happens next.

On October 29th, 1989, he signs away his freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore at the end of this chapter, so trigger warning for that. Otherwise, happy reading.

His stay at the hospital where he got his stomach pumped was short, and before long they were taking his vitals, blood pressure, and weight. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he’s drifting in the darkness for only a couple hours before he’s awaken, and he sees his mother, and his sister by his side, looking quite stricken. His father wasn’t there, Mr. Pines often worked long hours at a factory.

They stare at each other for awhile, before Mabel is the first one to break the silence. Her eyes looked at him with disappointment and contempt, and she wrung her hands together as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, Dipper. I didn’t know it got this bad… If I had known it would’ve come to this I would’ve done something I’m so sorry please don’t hate me-” She stops, tears streaming down her face, and she covers her mouth with one hand while their mother holds her. He knew how hard this was for her, and he feels the guilt striking him in the chest and anchoring him to the depths of Hell.

Dipper’s never felt so ashamed in his life, so fucking sick inside. He shouldn’t have tried to take his life, and now he has the consequences of dealing with a heartbroken sister and a disapproving mother. There’s no way to fix it, but that doesn’t stop him of trying at the best of his ability. He gets up from the hospital bed and walks over to her, and stares at her in silence. He bites his lip and holds back tears, and hugs his sister until he feels he’s transferred every bit of his love to let her know that no, I don’t hate you, this was a mistake. And he utters a shaken _I don’t know what comes next_ , and he can’t help but break down, spewing the next few words just so they were barely comprehendible, _but we can get through it together._

Their bonding moment is broken when a doctor walks in the door, clipboard in hand, lips in a tight thin line and eyes cast downward, until he clears his throat and turns to look at Dipper’s mother. He’s an Indian man, stout and middle aged, with thick eyebrows that meet in the middle and creases at the corner of his eyes. His eyes dart across the room and when he introduces himself as Dr. Bomzai, Dipper wonders if what he has to say determine the fate of his entire life. At this, he feels his stomach drop, and he shifts his feet slightly.

“We’ve run a lot of tests, and we’ve come to the conclusion that of course, certain action needs to be taken. Seeing as that this was a suicide attempt, we cannot have your son going home just yet. A good rest might be in order, and I know just the place,” he pauses, clears his throat, and gives Dipper some papers to sign, “Gravity Falls Psychiatric Institution. Excellent facility. It resides in a small town in Oregon, but has some of the best ratings in the country. Of course, your insurance will cover the expenses. We originally considered sending him to Piedmont Psychiatric Center, but I’m afraid considering the results of your son’s evaluation, we thought he may need a more in-depth approach to get the treatment he needs. He’s going to have to be in residential, receiving the best care we can offer.”

His mother’s eyebrows furrow slightly, and she turns to Dipper, contemplated and obviously looking for his opinion on the matter. “What do you think? Will this be okay?“ She bites her lip and shakes her head, gold hoop earrings gangling back and forth, as though her thoughts on declining her son’s hospitalization would do much good, “I’m just not sure if he should be so far away from home…”

“But mom,” Mabel quirks up, “Grunkle Stan lives there, doesn’t he? He could go visit Dipper and we could send him letters and stuff.” She looks at Dipper with a sad smile, pulling at the hem of her sweater, “I think you could have a great adventure. Even if I don’t think you should be so far away from us either, bro-bro, but I want what’s best for my brother.” She takes his hand in hers, and they laugh softly, a warm comfort resting in the teen’s heart. He’s never been apart from his sister, they’ve been together since birth, but if she thinks it’s okay, well goddamn if he didn’t agree with her.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

….Meanwhile, nurses in an Oregon mental institution are holding down a young man who came at his own eye with a pencil during arts and crafts, sticking it in its socket and ripping it out vigorously in one of his many psychotic episodes.


End file.
